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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23694103">i'll be your prom king</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprinkleofsunshine/pseuds/sprinkleofsunshine'>sprinkleofsunshine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Flirting, M/M, Pining Michael Mell, Post-Canon, Prom, Promposals, Slow Dancing, jer and christine deserve more hype tbh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:54:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,564</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23694103</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprinkleofsunshine/pseuds/sprinkleofsunshine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>michael sits up on his knees, taking rich's hands in his. rich is staring at him, eyes shining with something hopeful. he smiles bright, until his face hurts.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"go to prom with me?"</em>
</p><p>***<br/>(in which michael and jeremy plan the perfect promposals, and only one goes according to plan.)<br/></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Christine Canigula/Jeremy Heere, Rich Goranski/Michael Mell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i'll be your prom king</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>sprinkle?? actually being productive??? it's more likely than you'd think.</p><p>sooo after reading some absolutely incredible writing by the lovely <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/antpelts">antpelts</a> (side note, i highly recommend checking out their work, they're so incredibly talented!!) i finally decided to try my hand at some good ol expensive headphones!! i hope i did these boys justice.</p><p>enjoy :)))</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> <strong>incoming call: player two</strong> </em>
</p><p>"what's up?"</p><p>
  <em>"do you think roses are overkill?"</em>
</p><p>michael laughs, propping up his phone on the counter and adjusting his headphones. "roses?"</p><p><em>"well, like-"</em> jeremy sighs, tousling his hair. even on the tiny screen, michael can feel the anxiety radiating off of him. <em>"i wanna get her flowers, y'know? without it seeming.... patronizing, i guess? she's really into this whole 'destroying the social norms' thing and i don't know if roses are too... stereotypical. what about lilies? i don't know. i'm still learning."</em></p><p>"do you want me to text her?"</p><p><em>"please." </em>he groans. <em>"i don't even know what these are- like, excuse me?" </em>the camera flips, and michael's staring at some orange flower with tall, twisting petals. <em>"who is she?"</em></p><p>michael takes a moment to marvel at jeremy's sudden confidence <em>(phone anxiety was a big struggle for him in the past- now, seeing him use facetime in the middle of a store? hell, michael's proud.)</em> he bites back a smile. "here, gimme a second. i'll look it up."</p><p><em>"don't bother." </em>jeremy flips the camera again, eyes squinting in mock-disdain. <em>"it's... intimidating me." </em></p><p>"fair enough." michael grabs his laptop anyway, tapping at the keys feverishly. "what about carnations?"</p><p>
  <em>"funeral flowers? absolutely not."</em>
</p><p>"my bad," he chuckles, scrolling through pages of elegant bouquets. "how about... tulips? those are pretty. you can get a bunch of different colored ones, put them together."</p><p>
  <em>"that's... that's not a bad idea."</em>
</p><p>"obviously." he watches jeremy look around the shop before sticking his tongue out at the screen, nose scrunching up. "hold on, they all have meanings. let me look it up."</p><p>
  <em>"that can't be necessary."</em>
</p><p>"well, unless you want to give christine a bouquet that says <em>'i want to murder you in your sleep'</em>, be my guest."</p><p>
  <em>"i think you overestimate the capabilities of flower language."</em>
</p><p>"that's where you'd be wrong, my friend." michael teased, "i'm actually the ceo of flowers."</p><p><em>"ceo of flowers, my ass!"</em> jeremy looks around again, guilt flashing over him like a wave. when he opens his mouth again, it's to whisper: <em>"oh my god, i just cursed in front of the elderly shop owner. i'm gonna get killed. oh shi- nope. can't say that. oh god."</em></p><p>a laugh bursts from michael's lips before he can stop himself. he almost feels guilty when jeremy stares down at the screen, doe eyes wide with fear.</p><p>
  <em>"i'm gonna hang up before she kicks me out."</em>
</p><p>"solid plan. i'll text you a list of those flower meanings, okay?"</p><p><em>"thank you."</em> an apologetic grin lights up jeremy's face, contradicting the feverish blush on his cheeks that continues to spread. <em>"my hero."</em></p><p>"any time, my dude. call me later." he blows a kiss before turning back to his laptop, hearing the receiver beep as the call ends. </p><p>as the comfortable familiarity of silence settles around michael, he notices the weary starts of a knot balling up in his chest.</p><p>he shouldn't be nervous. it's just prom. no big deal.</p><p>he looks toward the closet, eyeballing the red balloons in the corner. part of him wants to cringe at the overall absurdity of it all. michael never thought he'd go to prom at all; let alone perform a promposal <em>(which, side note- who came up with that word? gross)</em> to a.... former-rival-turned-friend?</p><p>he sighs, booting up spotify and selecting the loudest playlist he can find, effectively tuning out the music.</p><p>first, jeremy. his own problems can wait.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>"what if she says no?"</p><p>michael chuckles, smiling around the comb clamped between his teeth. he ruffles jeremy's hair, water from the tap making his fingers drag uncomfortably. </p><p>"what if she hates it?" jeremy grimaces. "what if she thinks i'm trying to force things between us and she never wants to talk to me again?"</p><p>michael can see his eyes darting around the room, desperate to look anywhere but the mirror. he smiles, pulling the comb out of his mouth and wiping it haphazardly on his shirt before tugging it through jeremy's matted curls.</p><p>"dude. i love you, but shut up." michael says, voice lilting with fond annoyance. "she really likes you. she's gonna say yes."</p><p>"but what if she doesn't?"</p><p>"then you and i will go together!"</p><p>"what about your date?"</p><p>"i'll- <em>we</em> will still have fun." pushing the comb aside, michael adjusts the top button of jeremy's polo. "here, unbutton this. you look like you're going to a bar mitzvah."</p><p>jeremy rolls his eyes, reaching up to mess with his hair. michael swats his hand away, flashing an apologetic grin.</p><p>"okay." jeremy wipes his hands on his jeans, fingers twitching restlessly. "enough about me."</p><p>"thank god."</p><p>"shut up." a blush lights up jeremy's face. "tell me about your plans! when are you gonna ask-"</p><p>as he speaks, the bathroom door hits the wall with a clatter, and a familiar shock of red bursts into michael's peripheral vision. for a moment, he swears, his heart stutters. </p><p>"speak of the devil," jeremy mumbles, though the blush on his cheeks only darkens.</p><p>"what's up, bitches!" rich yells, an air of newfound confidence radiating off of him. somehow, it's nothing like the faux-cool he once exuded; no, this is... genuine. happy. it warms every part of michael. "i brought the flowers."</p><p>"you're a life saver," jeremy says, voice breaking a little. "i was starting to get nervous."</p><p>michael almost laughs. "that's an understatement."</p><p>out of the corner of his eye, he sees rich carefully balance the bouquet of tulips on the sink counter. "how's the makeover goin'?"</p><p>"you tell me." michael fluffs jeremy's hair one last time, grabbing his friend by the shoulders and turning him in rich's direction.</p><p>rich's eyes scan jeremy up and down, a familiar smirk tugging at his lips. "not bad, mell." he looks at michael, flashing a wink. "you made him look like a person."</p><p>jeremy blinks. "oh, thank god. thought he'd turned me into a monster."</p><p>michael gapes, gritting his teeth for a moment so his jaw doesn't drop entirely. "y'know what, i'll take it. there's a compliment somewhere in there." he takes a step back, arm moving to rest on rich's shoulder. "you think our boy's ready?"</p><p>"oh, definitely. he looks good."</p><p>"doesn't he? i'm proud of my work."</p><p>"as you should be."</p><p>"okay, <em>okay!"</em> jeremy laughs. "glad my two loving dads are here to support me."</p><p>rich glances up at michael, raising an eyebrow and mouthing a teasing <em>daddy </em>before bursting into a fit of hysterical giggles.</p><p>michael just rolls his eyes, pulling his arm away. he bites his lip to stifle his own laughter. "gross. get out."</p><p>"oh, you love it."</p><p>"do i?"</p><p>"maybe not yet, but you will when i-"</p><p>"<em>okay</em>, before rich resigns himself to being your sugar baby-" jeremy spits out quickly, face flushing again, "we should head out. rehearsal lets out in like, five minutes."</p><p>michael nods, tucking the comb away in his backpack before slinging it over his shoulder. "got it." he takes the bouquet of tulips from the sink, admiring them silently. "let's go, richie."</p><p>rich pouts. "not my name." </p><p>"whatever." michael winks. "you love it."</p><p>"maybe i do, mell," rich coos, scrunching up his nose. michael giggles <em>(giggles? when did that start happening?)</em> and pokes at rich's forehead. </p><p>jeremy is already halfway out the door. "stop flirting! let's go!"</p><p>rich and michael share a pointed glance, laughing. </p><p>michael takes note of the way rich's arm brushes against his as they walk through the doorway, the way he lingers just a moment before stepping away.</p><p>he clutches the flowers a little tighter and tries not to freak out.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>when the auditorium doors burst open, michael readies the video on his phone, stepping back. jeremy turns to look at him, eyes wide with nerves that shake his entire body. michael smiles, giving him a quick thumbs-up before focusing on his phone again.</p><p>rich is behind michael, peeking out every few moments. he can feel the warmth of rich's hands on his arm, fingers twitching out of nervous habit. </p><p>as the crowd dissipates, christine nowhere to be found, michael can feel his heartbeat picking up. <em>(why would he be nervous? jeremy's the one proposing... prom-posing? no, don't think about that.)</em></p><p>"you okay?" he hears rich whisper, fingers squeezing his arm lightly. he blinks.</p><p>"i think so."</p><p>rich raises an eyebrow, reaching up to grab michael's headphones from around his neck and pushing them up onto his head. "here. relax, dude."</p><p>"i can't listen to music. i have to record, dumbass."</p><p>"no one said you had to listen to music, <em>dumbass</em>." rich's eyes crinkle up in a half-smile. "it just... makes things quieter."</p><p>michael flashes an apologetic smile, just as christine finally steps out, eyes trained on the script in her hands. he almost feels bad that they're interrupting her studying, but he's sure she won't mind once she sees why. through the muffle of his headphones, he can just barely hear jeremy clearing his throat.</p><p>"christine?"</p><p>his mouth keeps moving, but michael doesn't hear it. he's too focused on the rhythmic tapping against his arm, on the warmth igniting his skin.</p><p>the excitement on christine's face blooms and grows, brighter than the flowers being offered to her. she nearly drops her script, scrambling anxiously to gather her things as she rushes toward jeremy. michael watches as she takes the bouquet, setting it down carefully before throwing her arms around jeremy. he watches jeremy practically lift her off the ground, spinning in an almost-half-circle. they're both laughing; christine might be crying.</p><p>he's sure she said yes. he can't really hear them, but he can tell.</p><p>he stops recording, tucking his phone in his back pocket.</p><p>"you feelin' better?" rich says, voice soft.</p><p>michael looks at him, blinking. he looks at the shock of red in his hair, at the backpack hanging off his arm, at the sweater hiding his scarred skin. his heart swells.</p><p>he smiles. "yeah. i am."</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p><strong> <em>mikeyy (9:55 PM): </em> </strong> <em>okay<br/><strong>mikeyy (9:55 PM): </strong>tell me if this is the best idea in the world or not</em></p><p>
  <em><strong>player two (10:07 PM): </strong>i'm listening?</em>
</p><p><strong> <em>mikeyy (10:09 PM):</em> </strong> <em> i bought a shit ton of balloons</em><br/><strong> <em>mikeyy (10:09 PM): </em> </strong> <em>and tied them to a basket<br/><strong>mikeyy (10:10 PM): </strong>with like chocolates and other goodies n shit<br/><strong>mikeyy (10:10 PM): </strong>also a joint bc who doesn't appreciate a little weed u_u<br/><strong>mikeyy (10:10 PM): </strong>and a fuckin coldplay album even tho no one actually listens to coldplay smh dumbass<br/><strong>mikeyy (10:11 PM): </strong>and i was gonna bring it to school and give it to him<br/><strong>mikeyy (10:11 PM): </strong>but like at the end of the day so if he says no i don't have to live with that shame<br/></em></p><p>
  <em><strong>player two (10:13 PM): </strong>are you done lol</em>
</p><p><strong> <em>mikeyy (10:13 PM):</em> </strong> <em> yeah lol</em></p><p><strong> <em>player two (10:14 PM):</em> </strong> <em> honest opinion?</em></p><p><strong> <em>mikeyy (10:14 PM):</em> </strong> <em> please ;-;</em></p><p><strong> <em>player two (10:14 PM):</em> </strong> <em> he's gonna love it!!!</em></p><p><strong> <em>mikeyy (10:15 PM):</em> </strong>  <em>(ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ✿)</em></p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>for someone so confident, rich seems incredibly eager to impress michael when he comes over for the first time.</p><p>"it's not much," he shrugs, scratching at his neck. the hem of his sweater hikes up when he moves his arm, revealing just the smallest bit of scarred skin on his stomach <em>(which michael definitely doesn't notice, mind you).</em></p><p>"it's nice," michael insists, nodding as he looks around.</p><p>truth be told, rich is right. it <em>isn't</em> much. it's a small apartment, with thin walls and chipping paint. everything is a muted grey or brown. the walls are barren, with patches of unpainted spackle and drywall sticking out like sore thumbs. the trashcan is overflowing with beer bottles, some broken. his heart leaps to his throat, but he doesn't say anything.</p><p>rich's room is almost the same, save for a few pictures and posters stuck to the wall with painter's tape. michael admires them, running a finger over the radiohead poster <em>(nice!)</em> by the door. the only relatively new thing he can find is a laptop on the desk, covered in stickers and logos michael doesn't entirely recognize.</p><p>the bed isn't exactly comfortable, but michael doesn't mind. nor does he mind when rich flushes, embarrassed by the lack of space, and offers himself up as a makeshift pillow.</p><p>maybe michael shouldn't feel as comfortable as he does now, curled up under rich's arm <em>(which is </em>incredibly <em>muscular, by the way, holy shit) </em>as some disney movie flickers on the laptop in rich's lap. he tries not to overthink it, shifting his body closer, trying not to let his mind wander, despite the fact that cuddling with rich feels so <em>different</em> from cuddling with jeremy and he's surprisingly gentle for someone so strong and this movie is<em> nothing</em> compared to the actual masterpiece in front of him and...</p><p>okay, so maybe his mind wanders a little.</p><p>he closes his eyes, just focusing on everything around him. the sound of the movie, the warmth of rich's body pressed close to his, the steady thump of his heartbeat...</p><p>he could get used to this.</p><p>"hey," rich says after a while, voice hushed. michael is pressed up against his chest, and rich's breath tickles his forehead when he speaks. "you awake?"</p><p>"yeah?" he looks up, blinking the fuzziness from his tired eyes. piercing green eyes meet his, and he could swear his heart flips.</p><p>"just checkin'."</p><p>michael giggles, turning to press his nose into the fabric of rich's shirt so he doesn't have to keep looking into those eyes. "yeah. i'm awake. just... comfortable."</p><p>he feels rich's chest shudder with a soft laugh. "that's... good."</p><p>"it is." michael breathes slowly, trying to stall the racing in his mind. "you wanna know something?"</p><p>"shoot."</p><p>"i..." he chuckles, fingers gripping at the front of rich's shirt. "i've been planning this... this <em>thing</em>, for so long now, and i... i mean, i had this whole speech, and balloons, and the whole thing was planned perfectly, and i was so, so nervous, but..."</p><p>rich bites his lip. "but?"</p><p>michael laughs. "but i don't need it! because..."</p><p>
  <em>because what's more perfect than this?</em>
</p><p>he sits up on his knees, taking rich's hands in his. rich is staring at him, eyes shining with something hopeful. he smiles bright, until his face hurts.</p><p>"go to prom with me?"</p><p>rich's face lights up. he chuckles breathlessly, shaking his head a little. "seriously?"</p><p>"honest to god."</p><p>rich wrinkles up his nose. "i'm an atheist."</p><p>michael just laughs. "so am i." he squeezes rich's hands tight, shuffling just the smallest bit closer. "i mean this, richie," he adds, softer. "you can say no. i just... i want you to go to prom with someone who... someone who cares about you. and i do. a lot."</p><p>rich blinks. michael swears he can see a faint blush around the pencil-dust freckles under rich's eyes. </p><p>"can..." he blinks again, something distant shimmering in his eyes. "can i think about it?"</p><p>michael smiles. "of course. take your time."</p><p>"how much time?"</p><p>"however long you need."</p><p>rich nods, sighing. "can we keep watching the movie? together, i mean?"</p><p>"duh." michael shifts, lying down and snuggling up close under rich's arm again.</p><p>they don't talk much after that, but michael doesn't mind. </p><p>he doesn't mind when the movie ends and rich starts up another one almost immediately. </p><p>he doesn't mind when rich starts to cry during <em>up</em><em>, </em>cupping his cheek to dry his tears.</p><p>and he <em>definitely</em> doesn't mind when rich falls asleep, arms wrapped around michael's waist, sighing contentedly.</p><p>yeah. he can get used to this.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>
  <em><strong>richie bitchie (12:28 AM): </strong>dude<br/><strong>richie bitchie (12:28 AM) </strong>if i say yes<br/><strong>richie bitchie (12:29 AM) </strong>do i still get the balloons??<br/></em>
</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p><strong> <em>mikeyy (3:58 AM): </em> </strong> <em>go to sleep dumbass u_u</em></p><p><strong> <em>richie bitchie (4:01 AM):</em> </strong> <em> says the hoe that texts back at 4am</em></p><p><strong> <em>mikeyy (4:08 AM):</em> </strong> <em> my baddd ahahh<br/><strong>mikeyy (4:08 AM): </strong>i was playing apocalypse<br/><strong>mikeyy (4:09 AM): </strong>also maybe smoking<br/><strong>mikeyy (4:12 AM): </strong>and for the record yes you still get the balloons<br/><strong>mikeyy (4:12 AM): </strong>and a coldplay album<br/></em></p><p><strong> <em>richie bitchie (4:12 AM):</em> </strong> <em> niceeee <br/></em></p><p><strong> <em>mikeyy (4:13 AM):</em> </strong> <em> is that a yes then ;)</em></p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>
  <em><br/><strong>mikeyy (4:38 AM): </strong>hello ;_;</em>
</p><p><strong> <em>richie bitchie (4:40 AM): </em> </strong> <em>stfu im sleeping</em></p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>michael doesn't get an answer for another week. </p><p>he shrugs it off, focusing on jeremy. that's what he's best at- distracting himself with his best friend when his feelings start to get in the way. jeremy needs help finding an outfit, so michael spends a lot of time searching for affordable suits to rent. he ends up finding a few nice ones, sending the links to jeremy quickly. next, he opts to search for ties. then shoes. then limos. <em>(why the hell does jeremy need a limo? he'll never understand.)</em></p><p>he tries not to think about the fact that jeremy seems to have everything planned out, when michael isn't even sure he'll have a date on prom night.</p><p>he's so immersed in his research for a proper corsage, music loud in his headphones, that he hardly notices the knock at the basement door. he only picks his head up when the door squeaks open, light from upstairs seeping in.</p><p><em>"isara mo po ang pinto, nanay," </em>he calls out, waving a hand dismissively. "i'm working."</p><p>he hears a familiar scoff. "is that tagalog for <em>hey there, hot stuff?"</em></p><p>michael pushes his headphones down around his neck, laughing. "sure. let's go with that."</p><p>rich smiles warmly, making his way down the stairs. he seems hesitant, unsteady fingers picking at the cuff of his sweatshirt sleeve.</p><p>"what's up? didn't know you were coming over."</p><p>rich shrugs. "i, uh... wanted to talk to you... about my answer. about... yeah."</p><p>oh...</p><p>
  <em>oh.</em>
</p><p>"yeah?" michael closes his laptop, pushing it aside. he pats the beanbag next to his <em>(jeremy's beanbag)</em>. "what's up?"</p><p>"it's, um... i..."</p><p>rich sits, shifting to face michael as he sits. somehow he makes himself look so... small. scared, even. maybe it's the dark hoodie he's practically drowning in, or the way he sits with his shoulders hunched over, or the untamed mess of fluffy blond tucked away under a beanie. maybe it's all of the above.</p><p>"hey," michael says, reaching a hand out to put his hand on rich's knee. "take your time."</p><p>the smile he gets in return is weak, but it's the most beautiful thing michael has ever seen.</p><p>"i..." rich clears his throat. "i want you to know something."</p><p>michael nods, offering a soft grin. he can see the faint roughness of red around rich's eyes, like he had been crying before. like he might cry again. his chest hurts. "anything."</p><p>rich blinks. "i really don't want to upset you."</p><p>
  <em>shit.</em>
</p><p>"i... i really,<em> really</em> like you." his eyes dart around nervously. "and i wanna go to prom. with you."</p><p>michael smiles. "you do?"</p><p>"i do."</p><p>despite the words, there's a pensive look on rich's face that michael can't help but notice. </p><p>"you do... but..?"</p><p>"but..." rich looks up at him, timid and weak.</p><p>michael looks at the hands rich is wringing in his lap- one riddled with scars and scratches and burn marks. he takes his hand gently and squeezes it, smiling when rich squeezes back.</p><p>"but i'm scared," he says, whispering so softly michael has to strain to hear him. "i'm... i don't want to mess everything up again."</p><p>it's so interesting seeing him like this, michael thinks. ever since the hospital, rich has been... so closed off. shy, almost. so unlike himself.</p><p>unlike his <em>old</em> self.</p><p>michael runs his thumb over rich's hand. "richie."</p><p>"hm?"</p><p>"you won't mess everything up."</p><p>"you don't know that." his eyes are shining with something michael can't quite place, something dark and hurt. "you <em>can't </em>know that. you don't... it's..." he looks down. "i can't mess things up again and risk hurting you again."</p><p>michael shifts closer, sighing when rich leans in and rests his head on michael's shoulder. he tucks his head down, resting it on top of rich's. </p><p>"i trust you, rich," he says, voice fond. "i know we haven't always gotten along, and i know you've hurt me in the past. a lot." he notices how rich flinches at his words, but he just pulls him closer. "but we've changed. <em>you've </em>changed. and i know that all the stuff that happened in the past... that wasn't you."</p><p>rich looks up at him, blinking back tears. </p><p>"i forgive you." michael smiles. "i did a while ago. now, i wanna get to know you. the <em>real </em>you. so far, i really like what i know."</p><p>"you do?"</p><p>"of course i do!" he laughs, cupping rich's cheek. he runs his thumb over rich's face carefully, wiping his tears away. "listen, if it really scares you, you don't have to go. i completely understand. i just... i need you to know that no matter what, i'm still going to care about you. you're still amazing."</p><p>the little smile on rich's face makes michael's heart melt. he hugs rich tightly, not caring that the awkward angle they sit at will be hell on his back later. he just holds on tighter.</p><p>they stay like that for a while.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <b>richie bitchie (2:35 AM): </b> okay</em>
  <br/>
  <em><strong>richie bitchie (2:35 AM): </strong>are matching tuxes too cliche??</em>
</p><p><strong><em>mikeyy (2:41 AM):</em> </strong> <em>≧◡≦ !!</em></p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i never thought i'd use the word "promposal" so many times,,, huh,,,,,</p><p>tagalog translation (thank you Mehloveshorror for the corrections!!) :<br/>&gt; isara mo po ang pinto, nanay- please close the door, mom</p><p>comments &amp; kudos are appreciated!! lots of love!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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